


your melody (lingers in my ears)

by hyungsobbing



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 25 lives AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Reincarnation, not that sad i wouldn’t be that mean to my babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-13 18:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyungsobbing/pseuds/hyungsobbing
Summary: i’ll never burn as brilliantly as you—it’s only fair that i should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes until i find the one where you’ll return to me.





	your melody (lingers in my ears)

**Author's Note:**

> btw if ur seeing this fic again it’s bc im reuploading it kinda. bc i. missed out. like half of a whole scene so u may hv noticed that one of the parts ended abruptly i don’t know if the comments or kudos will disappear but yes! hope u enjoy this c:

**The very first time I remember you, you are blond, and you don’t love me back.**

As a bartender, Hyunjin has seen his fair share of pretty people—the broken-hearted ones who come in to cry over a potent dose of alcohol, the ones who drink and party the whole night away, like it’s the last thing they’ll do. 

But when Seungmin first enters his bar, it’s different, in a way. He’s dressed normally, like any other bar patron, pressed slacks and fitting suit jacket top indicating that he’s probably come from one of the neighboring business companies. He has blonde hair, pretty eyes, and a mouth that seems to naturally tilt down at the sides, almost like a pout. He’s cute, and Hyunjin might go so far as to say _exactly his type_.

Seungmin sits down on one of those spinning stools right in front of the bar counters, and orders tequila with sprite and lemon.

“One tequila with sprite on the rocks,” Are the first words that Hyunjin says to him, and Seungmin looks up, face relaxed and eyes soft. “Thanks.”

“On the house.” Hyunjin adds as an afterthought, and it’s worth the mouth-lashing by Chan afterwards when Seungmin smiles at him, with teeth and all, eyes shining under the strobe lights of the bar.

“Rough night?” Hyunjin says sympathetically, sliding a glass of Sauvignon over to another customer without taking his eyes off Seungmin.

“You could say that.” Seungmin replies, and his voice is as pretty—_almost_as pretty as the rest of him. “Breakup?” Hyunjin offers.

Seungmin shakes his head, downing the whole glass in one shot. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, impressed. “I haven’t really met anyone before. Just work, you know?”

Hyunjin hums in understanding. “Well, you’re free to come back anytime.”

“You say that to all your customers?” Seungmin snorts, eyes playful.

“No, just the pretty ones.” Hyunjin teases back, and they both laugh.

Seungmin comes back every Friday after that, ordering the exact same thing for one month. It takes Hyunjin another month to convince him to try something new.

(“You’re not just trying to get more money out of me, are you?” Seungmin says suspiciously, eyes narrowed.)

“One Cointreau Margarita, just for you.” Hyunjin slides the glass over to Seungmin.

“Thanks,” He says, and then points in a direction opposite them. “Hey, do you know who that is?”

Hyunjin turns around, and he sees another man around their age, talking to his friend and nursing a gin and tonic. “Oh, he always comes here with his friend.”

“What’s his name?” Seungmin asks, leaning forward. Hyunjin gets a sinking feeling in his chest when he recognizes the glint in Seungmin’s eyes, but it’s not like he’s ever been able to deny Seungmin anything.

“Seo Changbin, I think.” Hyunjin answers, and turns around to mix a drink for another regular. “Interested?” Hyunjin jokes, tone forcedly light.

“Yeah, kind of.” Seungmin replies with surprising candor, and Hyunjin forces another laugh.

From then on, it’s kind of like Hyunjin doesn’t exist. It’s not like Seungmin ignores him—no, he’s not that type of person. Rather, whenever he comes in on Fridays, the first thing he says is no longer a ‘hello’, but ‘Is Changbin here?’ If Changbin did happen to be there, he’d look up with Hyunjin with that pleading puppy-dog look in his eyes, and it took about three seconds for Hyunjin to cave and play matchmaker for them.

Hyunjin can’t bring himself to mind, not really. Not when he sees the incredible happiness that shows on both Seungmin’s and Changbin’s face.

Not even when Seungmin calls him up at one in the morning, two years after they meet, asking him to be their marriage officiant.

(“We’re not going to have a proper, official wedding. I mean, it’s probably not possible anyway, knowing this country. And it won’t be so soon,” He reassures, like that would do anything to lessen the blow. “I haven’t even proposed to him yet. It’s just that you were the one who brought us together, you know, and I’d love nothing more if you could be there for me.”)

Of course, Hyunjin agrees. He’s never been able to say no to Seungmin.

They hold their marriage unofficially, just as Seungmin had said. It’s in the backyard of Changbin’s house—who turns out to be loaded, by the way, and whose family owns a mansion on the outskirts of Seoul.

Hyunjin stands between them, reading out the words on the scroll until his eyes become tired and voice nearly cracks. “Do you, Seo Changbin, take Kim Seungmin to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Yes.”

“And do you, Kim Seungmin, take Seo Changbin to be your lawfully wedded—” Hyunjin’s voice really cracks then, and the audience laugh at him. Seungmin rolls his eyes at him fondly, and Hyunjin continues, “Lawfully wedded husband?”

“Yes, I do.”

They kiss, and Hyunjin watches them, smile affixed on his face. He’s happy for Seungmin—how could be not be? He’s happy, and that’s all that should matter.

_Maybe in our next life, _he thinks.

**The next time, you are brunet, and you do.**

Hyunjin doesn’t recognize him at first. Minho had told him that there was another appointment at four, so he had been expecting someone.

He just didn’t think that it’d be him.

Seungmin walks through the double glass doors of their tattoo parlor, bell chiming. “Hi, I’m here for the 4pm appointment?” Hyunjin hears him ask. He sees the outline of Minho waving an arm towards the direction of the room through the frosted glass sliding doors, and snaps on his gloves, pressing buttons so the chair lies upright once more.

“Are you Hwang Hyunjin?” The voice, clearer now, asks. It’s familiar, in a strange way. Which is weird—Hyunjin has a pretty good memory of his early childhood life, so it’s not possible that this new client is some estranged family friend.

He looks up, smiling, and gives his new client a once-over. “Yep! And you are?” He’d be lying if he said the client wasn’t cute—he had brown hair, with artfully messy bangs that stopped just short of his eyebrows, and cheeks that looked like they’d bounce back if you poked them.

“I’ve heard lots of good things about you, Hyunjin! I’m Kim Seungmin.” He says brightly, eyes wide and sparkling.

The world seems to freeze for a moment, and Hyunjin, feeling like the floor had just dropped out from underneath him, drops the pencil he’d been holding. _Kim…Seungmin? _

“Yes, that’s my name.” Seungmin laughs, scratching his head. “Have we met before?”

_Yes, _Hyunjin wants to cry out. _Yes, we’ve met. Yes, I was in love with you for fifteen years.__Don’t you remember me, Kim Seungmin? _He opens his mouth, trying to force the last statement out, but pauses. Wouldn’t it freak Seungmin out? A complete stranger, confessing his unrequited love to him, with claims of—

“No, not that I remember.” Hyunjin smiles, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s discuss tattoo designs, shall we?”

When Seungmin leaves and he shuts the shop and has returned to the warm comfort of his home, he thinks, _this must be the universe’s way of giving me another chance._

A week later, Seungmin walks out of the store with a simple design of a sun peeking out from behind a cloud tattooed on his left wrist, and a number scrawled on a piece of paper tucked into his pocket.

(“Call me if there are any complications, okay?” Hyunjin had said, pressing the paper into Seungmin’s palm. The brunet nods and closes his fist over the paper, fingers brushing over Hyunjin’s.

Hyunjin watches Seungmin leave the shop with hope blooming in his chest.)

Seungmin calls Hyunjin three days later, and asks him on a date. Shocked, Hyunjin drops his phone into the toilet, and fishes it out just in time to scribble his number on a piece of paper and call him back on Minho’s phone.

“I hope that wasn’t a rejection?” Is the first thing Seungmin says when Hyunjin squeaks out a ‘hi’, heart in his mouth and fingers wrapped tightly around Minho’s phone.

“No, I-I’d love to.” Hyunjin stammers out, and the hope in his chest blossoms into something that feels awfully familiar—something like love.

On their second anniversary, Seungmin walks into Hyunjin’s home, an arm hidden behind his back. “Hyunjin!” He calls, and Hyunjin shouts in acknowledgment from the bathroom.

“Wait, stay in the living room!” Hyunjin adds on as a second thought, and hopes that Seungmin hears him.

Five minutes later, when he walks into the living room, towel wound around his neck and sweats rolled up to his knees, he wraps his arms around Seungmin from behind, nuzzling into his neck. “Missed you, baby.”

“We just saw each other yesterday.”

“Missed you anyway. Hey, did you know I cooked today?”

“How could I not? It’s all you’ve been talking about for the past week, and Minho even texted me to tell you to stop whining about how difficult cooking was.” Seungmin tilts his head to the side to kiss Hyunjin’s cheeks, and Hyunjin sighs in contentment.

“Let’s go eat?”

“Wait, before we go—I need to show you something.” Seungmin brings his right arm out.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” Hyunjin says doubtfully, and Seungmin points at the spot where his thumb meets his wrist. “Here.”

Hyunjin spots it, and gently turns his arm over to get a closer look. It’s new, a fresh tattoo of a fish, surrounded by tiny ocean waves. “It’s pretty,” He marvels, and Seungmin smiles.

“It means like—you know, you’re a Pisces, and both of our zodiac elements are water, so I thought it was cute or something, you know?”

“I know. It’s cute, even though I’m kind of offended you didn’t come to my shop to be tattooed…but I can let this go, I guess.” Hyunjin presses a light kiss to the tender area above the tattoo.

“You’re annoying,” Seungmin huffs, but doesn’t take his hand away.

“Love you,” He mumbles into the crook of Seungmin’s neck, loving the way how the words sound on his tongue, and sends a silent _thank you _to whichever higher power that had given him a shot at another life with Seungmin.

**After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything,**

Seungmin walks into Hyunjin’s dorm room, arms crossed and lips turned down into a pout. His hair is blue, so Hyunjin sits up immediately, tossing his book to the side and patting the space beside him.

“You’re a little too comfortable here, I think. I should stop giving you the password.”

“And risk me not doing your Transfiguration homework for you? I don’t think so.” Seungmin scoffs.

“Why are you upset?”

Seungmin groans, raking a hand through his cobalt blue hair. “I really hate being a Metamorphmagus sometimes. It’s so troublesome having people read me the moment they see me.”

“Was it those seniors again?” Hyunjin demands, eyes scanning his body for any signs of injuries. Reaching out, he attempts to tug Seungmin’s shirt up to check for burns, rashes, or any other nasty spells they had inflicted onto _his_Seungmin, but the boy resists, holding his shirt down stubbornly.

“Are you going to try to fight them again?”

Hyunjin turns his head to the side, avoiding Seungmin’s overly perceptive gaze. “And what about it?” He mutters.

He hears Seungmin sigh. “I know you don’t like it, but you have to understand that they’re bound to be annoyed at a fifth-year moving up two whole levels and into their sixth-year classes, you know?”

“I really don’t get it. What, they’re jealous of you that you outdo their asses in every single subject possible?” Hyunjin sneers, giving up on trying to check on him, instead flopping back onto the bed and pulling Seungmin with him.

“You’re so warm.” Seungmin mumbles, as he subconsciously curls closer to Hyunjin. “I am?”

“Yeah, you’re like a human heater.”

“I can be _your_personal human heater.” Hyunjin jokes.

The color of his hair flashes to a light blonde for a moment, and then back to his normal brown, and Hyunjin sighs quietly in relief.

“If only your fangirls could see this side of you—you think they’d be happy to find out that you’re not just smiles and laughter?”

“I don’t care about them.” Hyunjin says fiercely. _I care about you._

**because even when you don’t exist, I’m always in love with you.**

“Dude, wake up!” Felix pokes Hyunjin in the side when his head slips off his hand for the tenth time that day, and Hyunjin sits up from his nap with a start. “You really want to drop out of college, huh?”

“Was out last night,” Hyunjin mumbles, and focuses his attention on the projector screen, blinking blearily.

“I’m not lending you my notes again just because you partied a little too hard last night.” Felix says seriously, and Hyunjin grumbles inaudibly.

Professor Kim switches slides, and Hyunjin decides to start paying attention—it’s not like he can change degrees for the third time, anyway.

“The next slide is a depiction of a scene of a villager’s daily life during the late Imjinwaeran period during the Joseon Era.”

The picture isn’t anything special, and the faces are barely distinct—probably the work of one of the palace artists, when they didn’t have sufficient technology to take photographs, but for some reason, the picture feels odd. There’s about seven people in the photo, and it’s all in black-and-white, with their garments sweeping the dirt ground, some with their hair pinned up tightly, and some with their hair held back in a loose ponytail, carrying various goods and baskets.

Frankly speaking, it’s not a good picture. It’s too low-quality and grainy, but it feels almost familiar. Nostalgic.

An indistinguishable emotion takes root in the pit of his heart, and it’s nothing like Hyunjin has felt before. Like—like a big, integral chunk of him had been carved out of him years ago, and he’s just realised the missing gap.

“You okay, dude?” Felix whispers, concerned.

“I’m good.” Hyunjin murmurs back, not taking his eyes off the photo.

Hyunjin goes on to do his final thesis on the Joseon Era, and graduates with first-class honors, and despite spending an entire lifetime as a historian, he never comes any closer to finding out what made that photograph so special.

**I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together, where you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.**

This time, their first meeting is in a sandbox, and Hyunjin cries because Seungmin accidentally breaks his toy shovel. Seungmin stares, stunned, at the two pieces of shovel in his hands, watching with alarm as his wails grow increasingly louder.

“Here!” Seungminsays hurriedly, shoving the broken shovel back into his hands in an attempt to quieten his crying--he didn’t want his mother to scold him just because of a crybaby. It does nothing to soothe the distraught boy, and in a moment of panic, Seungmin reaches down, grabs a handful of sand, and throws it at Hyunjin.

Needless to say, Seungmin gets scolded, and the next time they meet in daycare, he ignores Hyunjin for a week.

Twelve years later, Seungmin sits on a chair opposite Hyunjin, legs propped on Hyunjin’s thighs, scrolling lazily through his email, when there’s a sudden_ ding! _from his laptop.

“Guess who I’m rooming with!” Hyunjin says excitedly, clicking through the mass of emails in his inbox.

“I don’t know, it’s not like I received the roommate email as the same time as you, right?” Seungmin replies, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Seungminnie! It’ll be like our weekly sleepovers…but like, daily!” Hyunjin reaches over for a hi-five, which Seungmin begrudgingly complies with.

“From daycare, to elementary school, middle school, then high school, and now college? How long do you want to follow me around for?” Seungmin jokes, and Hyunjin reaches over to lob a binder clip at his head.

“Can’t believe I’ll have to deal with your whining.” Hyunjin retorts.

Seungmin gapes at him in disbelief. “Me, whining? Hwang Hyunjin, you have no right to say that when you—”

Hyunjin leans over the table to press a kiss to the corner of Seungmin’s lips, effectively shutting him up. “Don’t act like you haven’t been in love with me since you were eleven, hmmm?” His words are teasing, but his voice is tender. “Love you, Seungminnie.”

**I love how you play along with my bad ideas,**

“Password is 395672, proceed down the hallway and take your third left. All the security cameras have been disabled.” Hyunjin whispers into Seungmin’s earpiece, and Seungmin inputs the passcode with gloved fingertips.

The metal doors slide open with a soft hiss, and he slips down the hallway quietly, one hand on the tranquilizer gun in his pocket and the other pressed against his earpiece. “I’m inside.” Seungmin reports, and Hyunjin tells him the next passcode.

“Oh, shit.” Seungmin swears quietly, as he rounds the next corner. There are two guards standing by the hidden entrance, and they seem to be geared up better than Seungmin is. “Security is by the entrance of our target.”

“I saw them through the CCTVs, but they seem to be newer guards, easy enough to take down.”

“Of course, you would say that, you do nothing other than sit by and watch while I train.” Seungmin mutters, but pulls out both his tranquilizer gun and revolver, aiming them both at the guards.

Thankfully, the muffler is already equipped on both guns, so in two shots, he manages to take down both guards before either of them is any the wiser.

“See! I told you that you could do it.” Hyunjin laughs, and Seungmin shushes him.

For a facility with such over-the-top security on the exterior, the final barrier was surprisingly easy to get through, and soon enough, Seungmin is standing in front of the Mona Lisa, in the biggest exhibit in the Louvre, all her traps and alarms having been disarmed by Hyunjin.

“Stop admiring it, you can do that later.” Hyunjin snubs him for staring at the billion-dollar painting for a little too long, and huffing, Seungmin lifts the painting off the stand. “Target acquired.” He reports, and Hyunjin cheers.

Weeks later, in the safety of their house, painting having being sold and twenty hundred million US dollars having being deposited into their bank account, Hyunjin flops onto Seungmin’s lap, staring lazily up at the ceiling.

“We’ve never considered about what we were going to do with the money.” Seungmin says.

“Yeah, it was kind of like—‘hey, do you want to see if we can pull of stealing the Mona Lisa?’ and then ‘sure, why not?’” Hyunjin does a terrible imitation of Seungmin’s voice, and received a smack on the head for it.

“Jisung called to ask what we were going to do with it, and he told me, and I quote him, ‘the Bonnie and Clyde of our generation should consider becoming philanthropists, and donate some of their riches to Minho and I.’”

“You told him no?”

“I told him to fuck off.” Seungmin snorts, and Hyunjin claps, amused.

“How about an animal shelter?” He suggests, and Seungmin tilts his head to the side, considering.

“Like donating to a shelter?”

“No, like buying over a dog adoption shelter.” Hyunjin says.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Seungmin agrees easily, and Hyunjin reaches up to kiss him, smiling.

**before you grow up and realise they’re bad ideas.**

There’s something off about Seungmin, he can tell. Anyone who wasn’t as close to Seungmin as Hyunjin was (that is, no one else), wouldn’t be able to tell, but to Hyunjin, it’s clear as day.

When the caporegime brings their group in to brief them on their next mission, Seungmin shuffles his feet uncomfortably, hands twitching aimlessly by his side. When he’s about to deliver the killing blow to the target’s head, he hesitates mid-swing, and thankfully, Hyunjin is in front of him to protect him from the piercing eyes of their seniors.

_Seungmin has never hidden anything from me_, Hyunjin thinks, that night, as they’re lying in their respective beds. _He’ll tell me when he’s ready_.

True enough, Seungmin brings up the glaring issue the next week, as they trudge through the underground canals linking their mission location to the headquarters. “Have you ever thought of walking?” He says it so softly that Hyunjin barely catches it.

“Of what?” Hyunjin says dumbly.

“Leaving. Starting a fresh life outside all this, you know,” Seungmin waves a hand at the dingy underground sewer walls, the knife and gun concealed in his holsters, the knuckle dusters adorning his fingers that glint in the poor light.

“What?” Hyunjin catches a hold of Seungmin’s arms, drawing him closer. “You want to leave?”

“Haven’t you ever thought of it? Imagine getting a fresh start outside these walls, an actual job, being around people who don’t try to kill you every chance they get?” Seungmin sighs.

“Are you mad? You can’t leave the mafia—they’ll kill you!” Hyunjin whisper-shouts, glancing around warily for any unwanted eavesdroppers.

Seungmin is silent for a while, and the drip-drop of the sewer water around them is deafening, and Hyunjin grips onto him tightly, suddenly afraid that he’d decide to make a break for it and leave him all alone.

“Wouldn’t that be better than what we’re doing now, Hyunjin?” Seungmin murmurs, barely audible, and Hyunjin shakes his head vehemently.

“The boss always seems to think I’m the more vicious, the colder one, the better one out of the both of us, but we both know that’s not true, isn’t it? Our kills always affect me more than you.” Seungmin frowns. “I know we joined together to run away, but this just isn’t right to me.”

“Seungmin, please.” Hyunjin begs, and he stops walking, holding on to both of Seungmin’s hands now, ready to drop to the ground, no matter how filthy it was, and beg. “You can’t leave me alone. You know the consequences of leaving the mafia, especially such a big organization like ours. You know what they do to people who want to leave—barely anyone has survived the procedures!”

Seungmin doesn’t reply, and they walk in total silence back to the base.

A week later, the topic doesn’t resurface, and Hyunjin assumes he’s forgotten about it, or discarded the idea entirely.

He only realises that it was stupid of him to hope for the best, because he should know how stubborn Seungmin gets when he wants his way, and only finds out in the worst way possible.

Hyunjin comes back from a solo mission a few days later to the sight of a group of some of the members dragging a body across the ground, and the guard lets them out with barely a glance to the unresponsive body.

“Another trespasser?” He asks Wooyoung, one of the better members, his mouth pressed into a grim line.

“You didn’t hear?” Wooyoung turns to look at him in shock, and Hyunjin shakes his head. “I just came back from a mission.”

His expression of shock melts into one of sympathy and sadness. “That’s not a trespasser, Hyunjin.”

A cold, vice-like feeling of dread creeps over him, and he watches the group drag the body further and further away, wondering if he should follow, eyes absently tracking the trail of blood on the courtyard floor.

“That’s Seungmin.” Wooyoung says softly. “Look, he wanted to leave anyway, there’s a chance that he can survive and—”

Hyunjin stops listening the moment Seungmin’s name is mentioned, and the cold feeling of dread morphs into one of desperation and all-consuming fear. A million thoughts run through his head, like _why didn’t he tell me? What did I do wrong? Where are they bringing him?_

And mainly, _why is he leaving me?_

He takes off after the group of people, ignoring Wooyoung’s shouts behind him.

They’re far away now, and he slides behind an abandoned shop house once they’ve stopped moving. He watches, numb, as one of them pick up Seungmin and set him roughly down on the sloping bank.

_The river is high-tide, _Hyunjin realises, horrified. _When—if he drowns, no one will find him until it’s swept upshore next week, and by then, it’ll be too late. _

They leave without so much as a backward glance, and Hyunjin takes off running, feet kicking up sand and gravel behind him. By now, Seungmin is almost fully submerged into the water, and if he doesn’t hurry, he’ll be gone.

Without a second thought, Hyunjin jumps into the water, oblivious to the freezing cold of the water, and reaches out for Seungmin.

He grasps onto Seungmin’s hands, and pulls him above the tides. “Seungmin!” He gasps, water blurring his eyesight. “Seungmin, please.” Hyunjin begs, and tries to pull the both of them to the opposite bank, keeping a secure grip around his waist.

“Hyunjin?” Seungmin whispers weakly, and Hyunjin turns around, eyes wild. “I know it hurts, but just wait a while, we can get you to the hospital in time!”

“Hyunjin, look at me.” Seungmin murmurs, and Hyunjin does, noticing the crimson colour spreading outwards in the water around Seungmin. “Hyunjin, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, why are you apologizing? Just—hold on, okay? We’ll be there soon, don’t give up.” Hyunjin pleads, and struggles against the currents. At that moment, he feels a water droplet hit the top of his head, and another, and in a matter of seconds, it’s raining heavily, and the currents rage against them, as if mocking Hyunjin’s pitiful attempts to get them out.

“I should’ve stayed, if only for you.” Seungmin coughs out a mixture of water and viscous blood.

“Stop talking like you’re going to die!” Hyunjin screams.

“I—” Seungmin’s next sentence gets cut off abruptly, and Hyunjin turns around, panicked, just as he feels a vicious pain rip through his bicep.

Seungmin stares at him, blood dripping down from the side of his head and into the river water. Horrified, he swings his gaze up, and through the relentless rain, sees the familiar sight of their boss standing in the windows of the shop house, gun cocked.

The boss points the gun at him once more, and the pain delays his reactions, and another bullet digs right into his ribcage, and there’s a sickening sound of a crack and he knows the bullet has hit somewhere vital.

“Seungmin.” Hyunjin stops trying to swim, and grabs onto Seungmin with all the desperation of a dying man. “Seungmin, are you still there?” He shouts, and Seungmin’s eyelashes flutter, and his eyes open slowly, sluggishly.

“I love you.” Hyunjin says firmly, and Seungmin coughs weakly, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. “I…love you too,” Seungmin’s words come out as a wheeze, and Hyunjin feels a third bullet hit his back, burrowing into his skin, but he barely feels it anymore.

Seungmin slackens in his arms, and his eyes slide shut. Hyunjin knows he’s gone, and he no longer resists against the currents, surrendering to the pull of the riptides. He knows within the next few minutes, they’ll both be gone, and that makes him smile a little.

(Maybe next in our next _together_, we’ll be luckier.)

**And in our times together I have many, many bad ideas.**

In this life, Hyunjin wakes up with a start, and remembers everything. In this life, he wakes up as an eighteen-year-old, and with a painful clarity of their life before. He can still feel the phantom pain of the shots, and the desperation for Seungmin to live.

In this life, he recognizes Seungmin as soon as he sees him across the street from his front porch. Throwing all caution to the wind, he shouts Seungmin’s name as loud as possible, and Seungmin looks up.

Their eyes meet, and for a wonderful moment, Hyunjin can convince himself that this lifetime will be _the one_, the one where they remember each other, and the one where they can be happy.

But this is not the life.

A red Honda speeds down the street, and in a matter of seconds, it’s just a few meters away from Seungmin.

For the second time in a row, Hyunjin watches, frozen and helpless, as Seungmin dies in front of his eyes, barely an arm’s reach away.

**When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.**

The bell rings, and Hyunjin pulls himself up, smiling. “Kim Seungmin, eh? You must be new.”

The fighter opposite him is almost his height, but there’s something delicate about him that makes Hyunjin want to hug him and protect him—not right now, though. Now he has to win. Seungmin stares at him disdainfully. “New enough to do this?” He retorts, and Hyunjin is too busy staring at him to predict Seungmin coming right at him, both hands reaching for his collar.

He only has time to grab at his sleeve, trying to break the grip, but Seungmin is too fast. Within a few milliseconds, he has Hyunjin trapped behind him, and slams him onto the ground in a textbook-style throw.

_“Ippon! _Kim Seungmin wins this match.” The referee calls, and Hyunjin clambers up, embarrassed but accepting his loss with good grace.

He sticks a hand out for Seungmin to shake. “Good match, that throw was amazing.”

“Really? I don’t really consider it so, seeing as you weren’t even paying attention. You made it too easy.” Seungmin says snidely, and Hyunjin laughs, unaffected by the jab.

He finds himself in a stadium just a week later, having dragged Minho along to watch Seungmin’s next fight together. “Go, Kim Seungmin!” He stands up to cheer when Seungmin flips his opponent onto his back to pin him.

“Will you shut up? You’re probably embarrassing him.” Minho hisses, and yanks him back into his seat.

He gets Seungmin’s number a month later, after much whining and pleading, and brings him on a date a week later.

It’s fun, and Hyunjin loves every moment with Seungmin, from the way he scrunches his nose when Hyunjin tells a lame joke, the little hitch in his laugh when he laughs a little too much, the curl of his fingers when he holds Hyunjin’s hand, and how he burrows into Hyunjin’s side when the months turn colder.

Hyunjin is told he falls in love quickly, and Seungmin is no different, but this time, he wants to hold onto this love.

Which is why, when Seungmin leaves Korea without so much of a goodbye, he’s heartbroken. The note left on his bedroom table that reads _‘I’ll see you again.’ _doesn’t help much. The days turns into weeks, which turns into months, and years, but he never stops thinking about Seungmin.

He learns that Seungmin had to leave the country to go to Los Angeles for pressing family matters, and keeps the note tucked safely into his wallet, away from prying eyes but close to him at all times.

It’s his only reminder that Seungmin exists, that it wasn’t all just a fever dream, and the promise of a _next_.

**Yet always, you forgive me.**

“Hyunjin?” Seungmin says. There’s no response.

“Hyunjin?” Seungmin calls out, and this time, there’s footsteps, rushed and heavy. Suddenly, there’s a comforting warmth around his shoulders.

“Seungmin, baby, I’m so sorry.” Hyunjin says, voice tender and apologetic.

“Where were you?” He says softly, eyelashes shuttering over his milky eyes.

He feels Hyunjin’s arm wrap tighter around his shoulders. “In the other room, sorry I didn’t hear you calling me. Let’s go now, okay?”

“Okay,” Seungmin responds, leaning into him, reaching down to grasp at his hands, and Hyunjin links their hands together tightly. _For as long as I live, I will never let go of you ever again. _Hyunjin swears.

**As if you understand what’s going on,**

“I love you,” It comes out of the blue one night, when they’re lying in their makeshift tents.

“Why so suddenly?” Hyunjin laughs, reaching over to hold Seungmin’s hand, and Seungmin wriggles closer to him.

“I just wanted to say it.” Seungmin mumbles, tucking his head into the curve of Hyunjin’s neck. Their mats don’t provide much protection from the scratchy, dusty ground, and their cotton blankets barely keep the chill of the winter air out, but just to be beside Seungmin—it’s enough, Hyunjin thinks.

The next day, Seungmin is deployed to the frontlines, and the week after, so is Hyunjin—except, they’re stationed at different sections. Hyunjin never sees Seungmin after that day, but comforts himself in knowing that they’ll see each other when the war is over.

Hyunjin goes back to their home country a winner, celebrated as a hero, but he still doesn’t see Seungmin

.

“Where’s Seungmin?” He asks his platoon leader, and receives a sympathetic, sorrowful smile in return. He’s hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, but brushes it aside, staring at Jinyoung pleadingly.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s entire world crashes down around him, and all he can do is grit his teeth, smile, and think, _maybe next time._

**and you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,**

In this lifetime, it’s back to square one—Hyunjin is a bartender at a decently reputable bar, cleaning glasses, pouring shots and smiling politely at customers. But no blonde boy ever walks into the bar.

Sometimes, on his way home, he’ll see flashes of blonde hair on the street; on buses that pass by him in a flash; across the train platforms, but it’s never him. Hyunjin lives the rest of his life feeling like the most important part of him has been stolen away, but he never finds out what.

(Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks bitterly. It’s better to live an incomplete life than none at all.)

**and the ones where he just, barely, never meet.**

Hyunjin has never been to Korea before, but somehow, when his plane touches down and he exits Incheon International Airport, it feels familiar. It feels a little like home, which doesn’t make sense since he’s been living in Las Vegas for his entire life.

They reach their new home under an hour. “So you’re the new neighbours?” A boy that looks around his age asks, standing at the doorstep opposite theirs. Hyunjin’s mom smiles at him. “Yes, I’m Mrs Hwang and this is Hyunjin.”

The boy squints at him. “I’m Jisung. You arrived just in time, you know? The previous tenants just left a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, is that so?” His mom says gently, and pushes the door open. “See you around, Jisung!” Hyunjin waves at the boy, who breaks out into a toothy smile, waving back.

Their apartment is decently-sized, and he lets his mom take the bigger room as he settles into the smaller one, overlooking an intersection of roads.

On top of the bedside drawer is a notebook, and curiosity gets the better of him as he reaches out to examine it. The cover is plain leather, with the initials K.S.M engraved on the front. Inside, the pages are blank, except the first page. Inside is a simple sketch of two parallel limes, running alongside each other but never touching, and the lines end where the page ends.

He runs his fingers over the lines, feeling the bumps on the page where K.S.M had pressed his pen too hard into the page, and closes the book again, tucking it safely into the first drawer.

**I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.**

The glass tube shoots up, and Hyunjin finds himself standing in the middle of a cityscape. He looks around warily, and notices that the tributes from District 1 and 2 have yet to step off, so he stays still.

His partner from District 12 is less fortunate, and the moment she lifts her foot out of the glass tube, as her foot touches the ground, there’s a deafening explosion, accompanied by a blinding flash. He blinks, and the girl isn’t there any longer—rather, all that’s left of her is her token, a tiny mirror, and scraps of her clothes.

He shudders, and as the countdown hits zero, he sees the tributes rush out towards the giant Cornucopia in the middle. _Ah, shit. _He swears mentally, and runs the opposite way, leaving the screams of pain and the bloodbath behind him.

He hides in a skyscraper for the rest of the day, and when the sun sets, he sneaks out. There had been a commotion outside the door just a few seconds ago, so he hopes he can make it quick enough to steal the tribute’s supplies before the hovercraft takes the body away.

The tribute’s eyes are wide open, and Hyunjin can still see the fear reflected in her eyes. Wincing, he pulls the dagger from her limp hand, and raids her pockets, coming up with a blowgun and poison darts and a loaf of bread that’s gone stale.

“Sorry,” He whispers, and slides a palm over her eyes so that they close.

He can only afford a quarter of the bread each day, he thinks, as he moves through the city silently, taking note of possible hiding places—both for him and for an enemy hiding to attack him from behind.

Hyunjin lives like that for a few more days, picking scraps off dead tributes and weapons stuck into their bodies, muttering a silent apology each time. It feels horrible, and Hyunjin hates it, but it’s not like he can do anything about it if he wants to win—if he wants to survive.

By the seventh day, there are ten out of the twenty-four tributes left, and it’s also the same day that the game-makers decide he’s not interesting enough. They send a pack of modified robots, equipped with artificial intelligence after him, and they tear down the street, blowing apart buildings and houses. He hears a cannon fire into the sky, and squeezes his eyes shut.

As discreetly as possible, he draws the dagger out, and hurls it behind him. There’s a clanking of metal on metal, and an ear-splitting screech, but otherwise, the robots continue chasing after him. _Are they indestructible? _He thinks desperately, and makes a turn into an alley.

_It’s a dead end_, he realises, horror slowly dawning upon him. Turning around, he searches desperately for footholds of any sort to help him up, but there are none. He hears the stomping of the robots as they turn into the alley, and their laser-red eyes focus on him.

Picking up his blowgun, he raises and fires it, and the dart thunks firmly into one of their eyes.

The robot squeals, and he watches, detachedly, as the robotic eyes blacken, burning from the inside out. It crumbles, as the lines of fire race from its head to the body, and it collapses backwards on the other robots, creating a giant domino effect, and the racket it creates is enough for Hyunjin to clap his hands over his ears, wincing from the noise.

He runs out of the alley as fast as possible, narrowly avoiding a falling hunk of metal, and thankfully, doesn’t meet any tribute on the way back to his hideout.

On the fourteenth day, there are five tributes left. He receives a new set of darts from a sponsor, but he can’t bring himself to use it on another tribute. He’d seen the effect it had on the robot—god knew what it would do to a human.

He meets a tribute from District 8—he can’t remember his name, but he remembers the look on his face as Hyunjin drove a katana he’d picked off the streets into his stomach, and the way the life drained from his eyes, and how he crumbled to the ground.

Hyunjin can’t bring himself to apologize, because he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

On the sixteenth day, there are two tributes left. He doesn’t dare to venture out onto the streets, until the game-makers set up a huge avalanche, causing all the buildings in his area to collapse.

He runs, and runs until he’s out of the danger zone, a streak of blood running from his forehead, and a fractured wrist.

“Oh, it’s you.” A new voice says, and Hyunjin looks up in terror, eyes wide.

Another boy with platinum blonde hair stands across him, axe in his hand swinging from side to side. Hyunjin remembers his name. Kim Seungmin from District 1—the Capitol’s favourite.

He scans his surroundings. To his right is the forcefield of the arena, and to his left is a river, at high-tide. Neither of the options sound very appealing to him, so he chooses to walk backwards slowly, one hand up but the other creeping around his waist to pull out his katana.

“You can’t fool me with that.” Seungmin says, staring pointedly at the hand behind his back, katana now in his hand.

Seungmin charges him, axe held aloft threateningly. He swings at Hyunjin, and barely misses his head, instead slicing off locks of hair. Hyunjin retaliates by sweeping his katana outwards, and parries another blow, the metals skittering off each other.

Soon enough, Hyunjin has Seungmin backed up, teetering on the edge of the slope of the riverbank. “Go on. Do it.” Seungmin lifts his chin, baring his neck, but Hyunjin can see the tremble in his hands.

He hesitates, and it’s over for him.

With a broken arm, Seungmin pulls out a dagger from his side, and drives it straight into his chest. There’s an audible crack, and from the pop, Hyunjin knows that something important has been damaged.

He stumbles backwards, the hand pressed over his chest doing nothing to stem the flow of blood. As he falls, Seungmin catches him, eyes inexplicably sad and burdened. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon, Hyunjin.”

**But when all’s said and done, I’d rather surrender to you in different ways.**

“Damn demon.” Seungmin scowls, landing on the roof of the skyscraper, tucking his wings in.

“You were talking about me?” Hyunjin materializes in a puff of black, ashy smoke, which Seungmin fans away with a swish of his wings.

“Yeah, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Seungmin scoffs, coughing. “You missed me that much, huh? Don’t worry, we have lots of time today.” He winks, and despite his best efforts, Seungmin blushes.

“Let’s go?” Hyunjin offers an arm, and when Seungmin grips onto it, they’re shadow-travelled into a cottage tucked in the middle of the woods in—actually, he doesn’t know where. They could be in the Amazon Rainforest for all he knew.

Seungmin lets go of his arm, and reaches for his hand instead. “Feels like I haven’t seen you for centuries.” Knowing how fickle time was, it probably had been centuries.

“I missed you too, angel.” Hyunjin says softly, and they stay like that for a little while more, just basking in each other’s presence. Just for that one night, they have all the time in the world, and nothing can take that away from him.

**Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder**

Being a med student is hard, but it’s worth it. At least, that’s what Hyunjin tells himself at three in the morning, after coming out of an operation room. He hadn’t even been the leading surgeon—just an assistant, but it’s tiring enough that he wants nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for forty-eight hours.

He’s lucky enough to get the internship at this hospital, but sometimes it just feels like the universe is out to throw him every possible hardship, because when he approaches the vending machine for a very late dinner (or a very early breakfast), the lights are powered off, and the sign reads _MACHINE UNDER MAINTENANCE._

Hyunjin kicks the machine, aggravated. “Stupid.” He mutters, dragging a hand down his face as he turns away, and jumps. “Shit, you scared me!” He swears.

A fellow intern, Kim Seungmin, stands a few metres behind him, two sandwiches in his hand. “Sorry, watching you take your anger out on the machine was kind of funny. What did it ever do to you?” Seungmin laughs, a tired note in his voice.

“It’s under maintenance.” Hyunjin grumbles, but forces on a smile. “Anyway, goodnight, Seungmin. You should be sleeping soon.”

“Wait, Hyunjin!” Seungmin calls as he begins his way down the corridor, towards his dorms.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin says, turning around.

“Would you like a sandwich? It’s not like I’m going to be able to finish both.” Seungmin holds one up, and normally, Hyunjin would be embarrassed to accept pity-food from an acquaintance, but he’s hungry and beyond desperate.

“Yes, please!” He cheers eagerly, and Seungmin laughs, eyes turning up in amusement. It’s cute, Hyunjin thinks.

It becomes their routine, and Hyunjin begins bringing Seungmin the food his mom makes when he gets to go back on his rare off-days. They trade rolls of kimbap and feed each other black bean noodles, laughing when the sauce gets onto his nose.

He knows Seungmin’s schedules (somewhat), so after a particularly taxing nine-hour operation Hyunjin knows he has scheduled, Hyunjin sits on the chairs outside the room he knows Seungmin will come out of.

The door slides open, and Seungmin is last to emerge, feet dragging on the marble flooring. “Your boyfriend is waiting, Seungmin-ah.” A senior staff he knows as Seungsik laughs kindly, and it’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t retaliate.

Instead, he flops down beside Hyunjin, bone-tired. “Brought food for you.” Hyunjin uncurls Seungmin’s fingers and places the sandwich into his hand. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie.” Seungmin murmurs tiredly, head lolling to the side, and Hyunjin nudges his head onto his shoulder gently.

They sit like that for a while, with Seungmin taking occasional bites from his sandwich. “It’s good.” Seungmin mumbles. “It’s chicken and mayo—your favourite, right?” Hyunjin says, and Seungmin nods minutely.

“I have to go for another operation soon, but I’ll see you after that.” Hyunjin says, and Seungmin hums.

“See you, Hyunjinnie.”

**is this the last time?**

To be honest, being one of the only people left behind in the world wasn’t as bad as the pre-apocalypse movies made it out to be. They could eat all the food in the supermarkets (at least, the ones that hadn’t turned rancid), live in the pent-suites of 5-star hotels for free, and free entry into amusement parks (although all the rides had stopped working long ago). There could be worse things.

But, Hyunjin supposes, it’s not entirely ideal, either. The sun is a brilliant crimson flare in the cloudless, grey sky, but the weather is freezing cold, killing off most of the plants and freezing the water in rivers and lakes over. Any rain that came down now was acidic and burnt your skin if you stayed out too long, and hailstorms came in the form of enormous rocks that could shatter your skull if one were to hit you directly.

And two months ago, when the last of the radio networks were still running, they had announced that the sun would collide with the Earth in two months.

Now, two months after that announcement, Hyunjin and Seungmin sit on the roof of a hotel, legs kicking idly. Height wasn’t so scary once you’ve been through the world’s population being wiped off.

The horizon is silent, all the animals having being killed off by the nuclear bomb that had wiped out seventy percent of the world’s population—if not by that, then the crippling diseases that had spread through the globe at an alarmingly fast rate. Hyunjin doesn’t know if they were lucky to have survived that, or unlucky to not have been killed off at the beginning. He doesn’t want to know.

“We might die anytime soon.” Hyunjin says matter-of-factly. Because it is. It’s a fact—as much of a fact as to how they’re probably the only two people left in the world, or as much of a fact that he knows he loves Seungmin to the ends of the Earth and beyond, despite them being the last two surviving people.

“Will this be our last?” Hyunjin asks, with a kind of quiet sorrow that can only be borne from centuries of silent grief. He doesn’t expect Seungmin to reply.

But he does. Seungmin smiles and says, “I don’t know. But I promise I’ll do anything to find you. I won’t stop until I do.”

The world ends with the sun crashing into the horizon, but neither of them scream. It’s oddly peaceful, with their hands linked between them as the world ends. Brilliant, blinding, and devastatingly beautiful in its own right.

**Is that really you?**

In those lifetimes where their lives don’t intersect, Hyunjin finds himself seeing Seungmin in the faces of others, at every turn, in any facet of his life.

Inside a Starbucks, with a Hojicha Frappe and his laptop in front of him; across the road outside his apartment, in the face of an actor in a K-drama.

Every time, he convinces himself he’s seeing things—that Seungmin isn’t really there, and that’s what hurts the most.

**And what if you’re already perfectly happy without me?**

“What’s up?” Jisung asks as Hyunjin flops down onto their couch moodily.

“Seungmin is crying because of some idiot.” Hyunjin grumbles.

Jisung frowns sympathetically. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. He doesn’t cry because he says he’s better than crying over some asshole, but I know he’s upset about it.”

“If you’re so tired of it, and you’re so obviously in love with him, why don’t you just ask him out?” Jisung asks.

Hyunjin blinks at him.

“I know, wild idea, right?” Jisung puts his hands up in mock surrender when Hyunjin glares at him.

“Seungmin isn’t ready,” Hyunjin defends. Jisung sighs. “And you’ll never be happy.”

When Seungmin tells Hyunjin he wants him to meet his new boyfriend, Hyunjin agrees. Why wouldn’t he? He’d go to the ends of the Earth if it meant making Seungmin happy, and if his happiness came at the price of Hyunjin’s, he’d give his own up in a heartbeat.

“I promise he’s different,” Is what Seungmin preludes with before he brings both of them out to dinner, and Hyunjin finds that he can’t bring himself to hate Lee Felix. He’s cheerful, bright, smart, popular and makes Seungmin shine with happiness—and Seungmin swears up and down that he’ll be the one.

Hyunjin spends most of the dinner telling Felix about Seungmin’s embarrassing childhood stories, like the time he insisted he could beat Hyunjin and took off his training wheels, only to end up crashing his bike into a tree and could only be consoled by one of those puppy-printed plasters.

Seungmin pretends to frown only on the principle that these are _his _childhood moments, but Hyunjin can see the pure delight that Seungmin radiates when he looks at Felix. He can see the way he squeezes Felix’s hand under the table when Felix lets out a particularly cute laugh, and the fondness in his eyes when he watches Felix eat.

And after all, who would Hyunjin be if he denied Seungmin a chance at happiness?

When Seungmin excuses himself to go to the toilet, Hyunjin quiets down, and looks at Felix seriously. “Am I getting the shovel talk now?” Felix laughs nervously, but Hyunjin shakes his head, smiling a little. “No, I can tell you really like Seungmin. You promise to do anything for him?”

“I swear I’ll do anything that makes him happy, and I’m always going to put him before me.” Felix promises. Hyunjin nods. “That’s enough.” _It’s what I’ve always done, and what I always want to do, but this time, I can only let him go. _“I’m glad Seungmin will be in good hands.”

“Listen, Felix.” Hyunjin leans forward slightly and Felix copies his posture, attentive.

“Seungmin loves hoarding clothes and will get grumpy if you ask him to clear out his closet, so don’t. He loves taking pictures but he’s very shy about his photograhps because he thinks they’re not that good, so please beg him until he shows you, because he really wants to share them. Bring him to film shops to develop his pictures, it makes him happy. Seungmin pretends to love spicy food but really can’t take it, so prepare a carton of milk nearby when he opens a tub of kimchi. He might seem like he hates skinship, but he’s really affectionate and cuddly, so never turn him away.” Hyunjin takes a deep breath, viciously shoving the tears back down.

“Seungmin is my best friend, Felix, and I love him a lot. He’s the most important person in my life. Please take care of him when I can’t, and until both of you are old and wrinkly. Treasure his love, because when he loves, he loves with all his heart. Never let go.”

Felix nods, and at that moment, Seungmin emerges from the toilet. “What were you talking about? More of my embarrassing childhood?” He slides into the seat next to Felix, and Hyunjin smiles at him, tears threatening to spill out, but he manages to keep it back.

“Not everything is about you, Seungmin.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

When he leaves the restaurant that night, and he’s dropped Seungmin off at his apartment, he lets the tears fall, head resting against the steering wheel.

_I hope you’re always happy, Seungmin._

**Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you.**

Sometimes, Seungmin is so far out of Hyunjin’s grasp, it’s almost laughable.

Seungmin is the country’s beloved crown prince, the kindest one in the royal family, the one that gets along with all the adults and kids with his sincere attitude. Hyunjin’s interacted Seungmin once, maybe twice, and even then, Seungmin’s eyes had passed over him like he was invisible, treated him kindly, but just the same as any other villager.

When Seungmin is crowned king, Hyunjin stays at the back of the crowd, clapping, and they never meet again.

**It’s only fair that I should be the one to chase you **

Hyunjin loves dancing. It’s tiring, difficult, and sometimes the hard work he puts in doesn’t pay off, but he loves it anyway. Where words fail him, dancing is his way of putting his emotions and feelings into movements.

But when he sees Kim Seungmin, even his dancing fails him.

Him and Seungmin couldn’t be any more different—Hyunjin majors in dance, whereas Seungmin majors in Medicine. Hyunjin is popular and outgoing, but Seungmin sticks to his closer group of friends, and his beauty shines in a quiet, ethereal sort of way. Hyunjin adores it—he adores Seungmin.

“It’s getting hard for me to tolerate your silent pining,” Minho says one day when they’re both in the studio, trying to come up with a choreography for their winter showcase, but Hyunjin is fresh out of ideas. Hyunjin is lying on the floor, scrolling through Seungmin’s SNS. (No, he isn’t a stalker.)

“What do you suggest I do? Confess?” Hyunjin says sarcastically.

“Yes.” Minho deadpans, and Hyunjin kicks out at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t see why you’re against it. It’s not like you were ranked number one in prettiest boys on campus anyway.” Minho remarks and Hyunjin rolls over, groaning.

“You don’t get it, hyung. Look at this!” Hyunjin shows him a photo of Seungmin smiling, flower crown wrapped around his head, and eyes curved into crescents. “He’s beautiful. He’s out of my league. Anyway, I don’t think he’s the superficial type.”

“Are you calling yourself superficial?” Minho says incredulously.

“Compared to him? Yes.” Hyunjin nods seriously, and Minho opens his mouth as if to retort, but decides better. “Come on, can you at least be useful? Like, translate your love for him into the choreography or something.”

Hyunjin locks his phone and tosses it aside, jumping onto his feet. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“I was joking, but go ahead.” Minho snorts, and Hyunjin smiles excitedly, and two days later, they have a completed, perfect choreography.

The winter showcase goes wonderfully, and their duo performance gets the loudest applause, and Hyunjin scans the audience, hoping to find Seungmin—and he does. Seungmin is sat at the ninth row, squished between two other students he knows vaguely as Jisung and Changbin. He’s cheering for their performance, and Hyunjin grins brightly. It doesn’t matter if Seungmin never returns the magnitude of his feelings, or that he never finds out that he’s the inspiration behind most of Hyunjin’s choreography.

For once, it’s enough. To Hyunjin, it’s enough that he gets the privilege of existing at the same time as Seungmin; it’s enough that they’re just two souls passing by. By now, he’s been through enough that he doesn’t mind just being near Seungmin, because there’s always hope for a next.

**Across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes until I find the one where you’ll return to me.**

When Hyunjin was seven, he’d dreamt about being an idol, but that was it—dreams. He watched celebrities like G.O.D, Shinhwa and Brown Eyed Girls perform on stage, like they were born to do so, and he wondered how it would be if it was him on stage.

At fifteen years old, he’s street-casted into JYP, and just like that, his dreams became a little more concrete. He walks into JYP fresh-faced and completely new to the reality of the idol industry.

He trains day and night for two years, before he meets Seungmin. Despite Seungmin being even newer than him in the industry, he seems to fit right in, and Hyunjin takes an instant liking to him.

In the face of Hyunjin’s persistent bugging, they begin to train together, and they bond over late-night practices and rushed homework in a desperate attempt to graduate and get out of school. It’s fun with Seungmin, and although he’s never met Hyunjin before in this lifetime, Hyunjin knows Seungmin like the back of his hand.

He knows how Seungmin secretly can’t tolerate spicy food, so he picks the kimchi out of Seungmin’s rice and eats the spicy parts of Seungmin’s meal so he doesn’t have to. He knows how much Seungmin adores photography, so he begs his dad for his old camera and gifts it to Seungmin. It’s worth it when he sees the blinding smile spread across Seungmin’s face, and the way he launches himself at Hyunjin for a giant hug, pressing his face into his shoulder and thanking him over and over again.

_Seungmin feels like home_, he thinks. _He feels like everything that’s ever gone right in this world._

Them debuting together was nothing short of a dream, despite the constant fear that they both lived in. Seungmin was afraid that it would change things, but nothing changed. Seungmin still sneaks into Hyunjin’s bed at night when he gets nightmares or there are particularly loud thunderstorms, and Hyunjin clings onto him at night when he misses Kkami or his family.

Seungmin still eats takeout with Hyunjin at two in the morning; still gravitates towards him in a group setting; still seeks out his warmth during winter because Hyunjin has always been a natural human heater.

Being an idol comes with even more stress and pressure, but it’s okay. They have each other during their best and worst moments, and Seungmin learns to treasure these moments.

Seungmin holds Hyunjin’s hand just out of view of the camera when he gets nervous during photoshoots, and vice versa. Seungmin waits for Hyunjin on the couch until Hyunjin comes back from his MC-ing schedule, and waits until Hyunjin changes, and only then does he go to sleep. Hyunjin tries to wait for Seungmin as well, but more often than not, Seungmin comes home to see Hyunjin curled up on the couch, snoring softly. He pulls a blanket over Hyunjin, and sits quietly beside him until Hyunjin wakes up, and they go to their room together.

When they have their first kiss in this life, it feels different. Hyunjin has blonde hair in preparation for their next comeback, and they’re in their dorms, so he’s dressed in pajamas—the whale-patterned ones. Seungmin has kissed Hyunjin so many times in their past lifetimes, and he remembers every single one of them but this feels special.

Like it’s the universe’s way of reassuring them, of telling them that everything in the past has led up to this one lifetime, that this will be their best one; that this will be their forever; that this will be _the one_.

Twenty-five lifetimes of chasing after Hwang Hyunjin, and Seungmin finds that he doesn’t mind it.

**Author's Note:**

> its not rly obvious? but some of the stories r from seungmin’s perspective (like the grow up and realise they’re bad ideas one—seungmin is the one with the bad idea uk and hyunjin gets dragged in etc) and if u rlllly squint u can see elements of their past lives in their future lives 
> 
> if u count it isnt 25 diff aus i think but pls spare me. im tired and just take it as artistic licence ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧) this little shit has been in drafts for almost a month (but w a different pairing at first (dojae LOL)) but its finally out...so...well...take it as you will
> 
> my twitter is apollohyucks!


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